


Pavlov's Dog

by quoththewriter



Category: Primeval
Genre: D/s, M/M, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-18
Updated: 2012-02-18
Packaged: 2017-10-31 09:08:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/342328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quoththewriter/pseuds/quoththewriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>or "five times Matt went through an anomaly, and one time he didn't." Matt learns quickly that running through the anomalies rubs Becker the wrong way, and gets hooked on the punishment. PWP</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pavlov's Dog

_i._

The first time is an accident. The anomaly is unstable and keeps blinking in and out of existence like a fading star. He’s being pursued by a creature when he stumbles through. It happens unexpectedly, one moment he’s in the East End of London being chased by an enraged mother oviraptor and the next he’s falling face first into Cretaceous mud. The radio goes quiet in his ear, cutting off Becker’s warning shout of (“Watch out!”), and the black box picks up nothing but interference thanks to the magnetic field of the anomaly that’s landed him seventy five million years in the past.

It takes four hours to stabilise the anomaly long enough for Matt to come back through, and he’s greeted by strained smiles that do nothing to disguise the flicker of dark shadows in Connor and Abby’s eyes. Becker isn’t there when he returns and any attempt to ask about him is met with stony silence that speaks volumes more than words could, anyway.

Matt knows Becker is mad, that he has a right to be, but he can’t help but thinking he shouldn’t be because it wasn’t his fault. He didn’t mean to go through the anomaly this time, and that should make all the difference.

But it doesn’t and the words are wasted on Becker, who glares at him when he walks in and refuses to speak to him for the rest of the day. They avoid each other until it’s time to leave and thank god the anomaly detector remains blissfully silent, so it comes as something of a surprise when they meet in the washroom: Becker walking in as Matt intends to leave and Becker stands in the doorway, refusing to move.

“Excuse me,” Matt says, choosing to be civil. And anyway, it’s not that he’s mad at Becker, just that Becker is mad at him.

“Why did you you do it?" Becker spits back instead, voice low and dangerous. It's not a question, but a command, and the look on Becker’s face tells Matt he only has so long to answer.

“Do what?” he asks, just to get under his Becker's skin, and then regrets it when Becker comes at him with rage on his face, hands slamming him backwards until his back collides painfully with the hand dryer and his breath leaves him in a whoosh.

Becker doesn’t apologise, doesn’t even look sorry, he simply glares at him in a way that makes Matt feel small and stupid when he realises Becker’s actions are driven by pain and loss and the anger is just a cover, the same way it was when he went through the anomaly after Emily.

“I didn’t do it on purpose,” he argues, but Becker’s response is quick and cold.

“Yeah, _this_ time.”

Matt narrows his eyes, mouth turning down as Becker glares and he glares right back. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know exactly what it means.” And he does and he doesn’t like it but there’s an underlying strain in Becker’s voice that Matt picks up on, that lets him in on just how stressful today must have been for him and reluctantly, he backs down.

“It was an accident,” he amends sincerely, meeting Becker’s eyes. “You know that. We had no idea that anomaly was going to appear out of nowhere like it did.”

Becker takes this in, still seething, still tense and Matt worries that maybe he’s gone too far this time, that maybe this time something’s broken in him that can’t be fixed.

Becker is giving him a look he can’t define and then all of a sudden he’s moved closer, inclined his head and Becker’s mouth is on his, kissing him hard and fast with just a hint of teeth to show his anger. Matt tries to wrap his head around how this is happening or why but then he adjusts to the feeling and instead of trying to work out where this is coming from, he kisses back, slipping his tongue between Becker’s lips when he takes in a breath of air.

Becker’s teeth bite down hard and fast and Matt draws back so sharply that he hits his head on the tiled wall hard enough for fireworks to go off behind his eyes.

“Fuck!” he curses because he’s seeing stars and he’s sure his tongue is bleeding. “What was that for?”

“You’re not supposed to _enjoy_ it,” Becker hisses and shoves him hard before letting him go and Matt, not expecting it, topples gracelessly to the floor. Becker wipes a hand across his lips like he wants nothing to do with him, like he didn’t initiate the kiss in the first damn place, and gives Matt a look that simultaneously thrills and terrifies him.

“Don’t do it again."

Matt isn’t sure whether he means the anomaly or the kiss, isn’t sure about much of anything, because his head is throbbing and his tongue has gone numb and he thinks that maybe he hit his head harder than he thought because, the blood in his mouth notwithstanding, he finds himself wanting to do that again.

And he thinks he knows how to make it happen.

 

_ii._

The second time is not-quite-an-accident, in the sense that he sees the anomaly, is readily aware of it in front of him, and still makes the conscious decision to step through it despite Becker’s orders.

The others are all busy trying to herd panicked herbivores (hadrosaurs, he thinks) into a collective group and the communication lines go quiet for ten minute stretches in between shouts of “We’ve got one cornered on the bridge!” and “Three of them headed your way!” and Matt thinks, it’s only for a minute, no one will know. He’ll just step through the light, touch foot on the other side and nip back before anyone realises he’s gone.

Only, it doesn’t quite happen that way when he steps through the anomaly and doesn’t see the drop and ends up going for an unexpected swim in a prehistoric river.

He scrambles back through the anomaly wet and bested by his own logic and offers a modest shrug to the team when they give him curious looks as they arrive. The wet clothes are just a minor set back and he’ll just change when he gets back to the ARC, anyway.

He helps them herd the panicked dinosaurs back home and when they finish, the others are grinning from the victory while he’s grinning for a different reason because he managed to get away with it and the rest of them are none the wiser.

So when Becker corners him in the locker room and looks him up and down with a scowl on his face, he thinks nothing of it.

“What happened to you?” Becker asks, and his tone is casual enough that Matt doesn’t worry.

“Went for a bit of a swim,” he answers with a shrug and he thanks the anomaly for opening in a park with a pond as he strips out of his soaked shirt. “I suspect the ducks weren’t all that happy with me for ruining their lunch.”

He feels confident with the lie; there’s enough truth there to make it believable, but Becker is watching him with his arms crossed and the look on his face smacks of disbelief. So when he presses forward and Matt ends up with the lockers to his back and Becker’s hot breath against his ear, he hides a grin and wonders idly how he knew.

“Wrong answer,” Becker growls, a low hum against Matt’s skin that leaves him aroused and wanting. He remembers the last time in the washroom, with the heat of Becker’s mouth on his and the warning that he’s turned into a challenge and a part of him feels accomplished for succeeding.

He remains silent and tries to keep his breathing even as Becker’s hand reaches out to caress his face.

“You think I didn’t notice?” There’s almost a hint of disappointment there, as though Becker was expecting better. “You think you can just take off through the anomalies whenever you want without… _consequences_?”

Becker’s thumb runs along his jaw and Matt swallows reflexively.

“You think it doesn’t matter that you’ve gone through because you’ve made it back in one piece,” Becker’s mouth is a centimetre from his cheek and the way he whispers makes Matt shudder in anticipation. “…is that it?”

Matt takes a deep breath to still himself and fights down the urge to take Becker’s face in his hands and kiss him senseless because this closeness is driving him mad.

“No, it’s-“ he starts but Becker’s hand trails from his neck to his shoulder and gives him a light shove that has Matt drawing in a sharp breath as the cool metal presses against his chilled skin because Becker never even gave him the chance to put on a shirt.

“Quiet,” Becker hisses, and the command in his voice is almost arousing. His hand rakes lightly across Matt’s chest before heading downwards, and Matt shivers.

“Try again,” Becker demands, tone dangerously soft.

“I said it’s not-“

“Wrong again, Matthew,” Becker breathes and the teasing hand comes to a stop on his belt. Matt’s breath leaves him in surprise and his heartbeat quickens until the pulse in his neck is thundering so fast and loud he’s certain Becker can hear it.

His mouth feels suddenly dry and he licks his lips, feeling ridiculous and exposed under Becker’s gaze. Gideon calls him Matthew all the time, but this is different because Becker isn’t Gideon. Gideon never talks to him like this, close and quiet with no room between their bodies for anything but breath, and the way Becker says his full name makes it sound almost…obscene.

The tone of his voice sends heat and blood rushing south, and Matt fights to remain coherent and ignore the lust singing in his blood that demands he push back and do something he knows he’ll regret later.

“Would you let me…explain?” The words are a challenge with Becker so close, hardly giving him room to breathe, let alone think, but he manages them though his voice is strained and the look in Becker’s eyes isn’t helping.

And then Becker is pressing him back again, crowding in even more until there’s not an inch of space between them and Matt realises, too late, that there’s no way now Becker will miss the obvious. Because this friction, this closeness and the timbre of Becker’s voice have him hard, aroused, and there’s no way Becker can’t feel him when every inch of their bodies are pressed together so close it feels they’re trying to become one.

And Matt feels the heat of Becker’s hand on his belt, so fucking close yet miles away and he presses desperately back into the lockers, welcoming the sting of cold metal on bare flesh because it clears his mind and it’s the only thing stopping him from grinding his hips into Becker’s to release some of the strain.

Matt muffles a curse when Becker’s right hand brushes over his erection and it takes all of his willpower not to lean into the touch even though he wants nothing more than to force himself against Becker’s hand until he comes just so he can think again, so he can breathe again. But Becker knows this, he can see it in his eyes, and Matt knows now for sure he’s being punished.

Becker strokes him again, and even through his clothes it’s practically obscene because his hand is wedged between their tightly pressed bodies and the friction against his cock is enough to make Matt groan.

Becker presses in close, lips against his ear and a hand over his mouth and hisses, “Quiet." And when Matt can’t fight the whimper back in time and it withers out into the air between them and he feels Becker’s right hand withdraw, he gets the message.

Slowly, he nods and he knows Becker sees it even though his eyes aren’t watching him, he’s too busy glaring into the lockers by Matt’s head as he undoes the belt and clasp of Matt’s trousers without even looking before slipping his hand down inside. The hand over his mouth slips away and suddenly Becker angles himself so that he’s leaning into Matt’s shoulder, half-pinning him to the wall, which opens up just a bit of space between them for his other hand to work.

Matt clenches his teeth tight enough to make his jaw hurt as Becker runs his fingers up and down his length and he wants to curse him or hit him or something because he knows Becker is deliberately teasing him and if he doesn't actually do something about it soon, he will scream.

He fights back the urge to do so only because he’s certain that’s what Becker wants, another reason to punish him, and he refuses to give him that without getting something in return.

Becker continues taunting him until Matt’s throat is aching from holding in his breath and when blunt nails scratch lightly up from the base of his cock a shudder ripples through him from his scalp to his soles and there’s not a threat in hell that could keep him quiet.

“You like that?” Becker taunts and Matt suddenly hates him for this, for the teasing and the games and he narrows his eyes at the smug look on Becker’s face.

“You’re a right bastard, Becker. You know that?" he hisses, biting back a moan as Becker’s fingers leave him and then a curse when he realises that he’s been tricked into speaking and he wants to take back the words because having Becker’s hand on his cock, teasing or no, is better than no hand at all.

Becker’s grin is a just a little too satisfied and Matt imagines all the ways he can make that smirk disappear.

“I thought I told you to be quiet," Becker’s lips are on his throat, just over his pulse and the words are low and dangerous. Matt knows he’s toeing the line, testing the boundaries, but he’s been pushing the boundaries with Becker ever since he was hired on the project and he’s sure as hell not going to stop now.

“Then stop asking questions,” he fires back, and then feels a twist of regret in his stomach because there’s no hope now that Becker will finish what he’s started, not when he’s broken the rules (again) and Becker’s going to make him pay for it.

When Becker lifts his head to meet Matt’s eyes and there’s a challenge there, Matt knows a decision’s been made.

“Okay,” Becker says simply, and Matt is shocked to feel Becker’s hands on his hips, pushing his trousers down to his knees and then Becker’s hand curls around him and every thought in his head is insignificant because the pace Becker sets is relentless.

Becker knows what he’s doing, works him so hard and fast it’s almost bruising and the contrast from before is so complete it leaves Matt gasping. He bucks against Becker’s hand, no longer sure which way is up and which way is down, not sure whether he wants the friction to increase or stop all together. Becker works up a pounding rhythm, hand sliding up and down Matt’s cock with a fury that makes his Matt's head spin and his knees weak.

By now he’s moaning long and loud but Becker doesn’t stop, doesn’t stutter, and it takes all of five seconds to bring him over the edge.

Matt comes with a groan, shooting over Becker’s hand and probably on his clothes, too, but he doesn’t see because the world’s gone white and his body feels like it’s on fire.

When he opens his eyes, Becker is gone.

 

_iii._

The third time it happens, Becker corners him in the corridor outside the armoury after hours and Matt winces as he’s shoved none too gently against the wall. He thinks that maybe Becker is developing a habit because his back is still sore from last week’s encounter, and maybe next time he can work on avoiding the walls.

"It wasn’t my fault!” he argues, pointing out how he was assaulted and dragged through by the creatures, never mind the fact that there were four of them in total, each no bigger than his hand and they were about as collectively threatening as a pack of pigeons. The little buggers had a sharp set of teeth on them though and Matt has the bites to prove it.

Becker’s hands twist in the fabric of his shirt; his face pinched and angry, and Matt can tell he hasn’t forgiven him for earlier. He keeps his face neutral and prays that Becker doesn’t catch on that he’s enjoying this little game of theirs, that he feels a thrill shoot through him as he contemplates the punishment that comes with disobeying orders for a third time.

“Evening, Becker," he murmurs, keeping his tone light. It’s designed to rile him up further and it does the trick.

“Shut up,” Becker tells him, harsh and commanding, as his hands reach for Matt’s belt. Matt feels his cock twitch with Becker’s hands so close, with the memory of last time and those slender fingers wrapped around him, the pace fast and unforgiving. He bites back a smile and then a moan as Becker pushes Matt's trousers down and then sinks to his knees. He hadn’t been expecting this.

He wants to say something, something like _"this is what you call punishment?"_ and he can feel the smirk already blooming on his lips, but he fights the urges down. However strong, the urge to have Becker right here, like this, is stronger.

He should argue, should say something just for the sake of keeping up appearances.

“The CCTV’s-”

“Down for repair,” Becker cuts in smoothly, tone like cut-glass, and then he ducks his head and gets to work.

Matt draws in a sharp breath as Becker’s mouth closes around him. The heat and moisture turn him hard in an instant and he hopes Becker doesn’t realise he’s enjoying this because in all likelihood he’s not supposed to be enjoying the punishment.

One of Becker’s hands is on his hip, fingers gripping strong enough to leave bruises he’ll probably feel and see tomorrow, while the other ghosts somewhere between his thigh and his balls, lingering just long enough for him to feel but not enjoy.

He should have realised then, but by then Becker’s mouth was working him into a frenzy, sucking and licking in all the right places until his eyes roll back and he lets a moan slip from beneath clenched teeth. When he feels Becker’s teeth graze the tip of his cock, he groans again and reaches blindly for Becker’s hair, to anchor him here, to anchor himself here, but Becker slaps his hands away and continues, oblivious or uncaring to Matt’s growing sense of desperation.

When Matt tries bucking his hips, something, anything to take the edge off, Becker’s hands force him still and Matt feels like he’s dying, caught somewhere between ecstasy and hell.

Becker’s pace changes; sometimes its fast and demanding, making Matt gasp and groan and just when he feels like he’s going over the edge, the pace stops, changes all together and Matt damns him with every curse he can think of for drawing this out until it feels like he’s going to explode.

Becker’s hands hold him maddeningly still as he works his tongue up and down Matt’s cock with an expertise that speaks of practise and Matt wonders fleetingly if he’ll ever know this side of Becker, when he’s not angry and driven by a vindictive desire to torture him for his mistakes.

When the pace picks up for a third time, Matt thinks _this is it_ , this will finally finally drive him over the edge, and he awaits that moment of blissful release with what feels like the rest of his sanity. Becker’s pace is relentless and Matt can tell by the nails biting into his hips that this is where the anger is, the reason behind the punishment, and he takes it, anger and all waits for the end to come.

Becker brings him to the edge and leaves him teetering on the brink, leaves his sanity in pieces because all Matt needs is one final push and he’s toeing the line between pleasure and a pain so tight he can barely stand it.

And Becker stops.

“No!" Matt gasps desperately, breathing sharp and ragged. “Don't stop! You can't-”

Becker releases him and stands up, leaving him strained and aching, and there’s an undeniable spark of cruel and unabashed pleasure in those brown eyes.

“Watch me,” he says, and he walks away.

 

_iv._

The fourth time is unplanned. The anomaly opens in some posh flat on the edge of Windsor and the home owner is ranting because the Coelophysids destroyed some priceless paintings and Matt’s been left to deal with the man on his own while the others play dinosaur wranglers. He listens to the man threaten him with his solicitor for the fifth time in a ten minute stretch and he informs him yet again that he’s from the government and this will get dealt with as soon as he’s able.

It takes another five minutes before one of Becker’s soldiers comes over to take the guy back to ARC for all the necessary paperwork and by that time Matt is definitely more than ready to call it a day. The creature left a mess in its wake, not to mention witnesses and Matt knew however this day ended they would still be getting a bollocking from Lester when they get back on the art of discretion and why exactly they find it so hard to avoid situations exactly like this one.

Becker’s voice comes over the comms then, low and angry and shouting orders, and Matt feels arousal stirring when he thinks of that angry mouth on his cock, teasing him and then leaving him on the edge as punishment for disobeying orders. And he shifts awkwardly, standing in the middle of the floor of the now-empty flat, just him and the anomaly, before his eyes slide over to the sparkling light.

He doesn’t think _he won’t know_ because it’s happened three times now and Becker’s score is three for nought. He tells himself he’s doing this to curb his boredom, to get back at Becker for leaving him here while the home owner talked at him for a waste of fifteen minutes, and not because he wants to get under Becker’s skin deep enough to leave a permanent mark or because he’s becoming stupidly addicted to the way Becker can break down his walls, walls he’s spent his whole life building, with a few well-placed touches and an expert tongue.

So he stops thinking altogether and steps through an anomaly for the fourth time since taking this job, and he thinks that maybe this day won’t turn out so bad after all.

It doesn’t take long for Becker to find him after all the work is said and done. He’s hiding in his lab to stay out from under Lester’s irritated glare and avoid the thundercloud of anger that has been following Becker around since their return. Matt knows that Becker was waiting for just the right moment and a part of him enjoys the fact that he holds some piece of the game they’re playing so that Becker has to come to him.

The door opens and closes on a whisper and suddenly Becker is there, like a flash flood, silent and angry. There’s nothing but tension and anger in those broad shoulders and Matt's eyes can’t help but follow those shoulders down to his chest, and roam over the muscles straining against the tight black fabric of his uniform in a way that is wholly (and inappropriately) appealing.

He nods in greeting, eyes flickering belatedly to his colleague’s face. “Becker."

“ _Matthew_ ,” Becker hisses, suddenly close enough for him to feel warm breath ghost over his face and Matt leans back involuntarily, stopped by the back of his chair. Becker towers over him, hands on the arm rests that form a living cage, trapping him in the middle as Becker crowds into his personal space.

The growl in Becker’s voice and the press of his body makes Matt’s cock twitch in anticipation and he wonders if the punishment this time will be anything like the last.

Becker moves forward until he’s practically straddling his lap and Matt bites down on the urge to do very unprofessional things because the look in Becker’s eyes is almost murderous and as much fun as baiting Becker is, Matt values his life and is quite unwilling to part with it.

Becker squats over his knees, any further advance halted by the arm rests on which he rests his hands, and leans in until he has his lips pressed to the furthest corner of Matt’s mouth.

“You did it again, Matthew.” One of his hands leaves the arm rest and Matt is fully aware of its weight as it lands on his shoulder. He swallows roughly at the use of his full name; the breathy way it’s whispered making him hot and uncomfortable under the collar.

The way Becker’s lips brush against his skin, touching him without kissing him, sends the blood rushing to his cock. Becker tsks and Matt feels a spike of lust twist in his gut, as sharp and unavoidable as Becker’s hand which makes a slow and teasing trail down his arm and over his stomach to brush against his erection.

Becker’s eyes are fixed on him and for once Matt can’t read the expression in those dark eyes, only feels pleasure roll through him as his cock swells under the light touch of Becker’s hand.

“You want me to apologise?" Matt grunts and shifts, subtly pressing up against the soldier’s hand. He tilts his head back and gives Becker a crooked, devilish smile. “Or are you just going to blow me again?”

Becker gropes him once through his jeans, tight enough for his breathing to hitch, before the other hand shoots out and catches him roughly by the collar. Matt chokes on a breath as Becker stands and hauls him from the chair in one smooth movement before forcing Matt to his knees with a firm hand on his shoulder.

He crumples, shocked but willing, to Becker’s feet. The hand knotted in his shirt releases him while the one on his shoulder holds him in place.

Becker’s free hand falls to his belt and works one-handed on undoing his trousers. It’s amusing at first, but then all too frustrating as Becker struggles and Matt reaches out to help him along.

Becker swats at his hands, but Matt ignores him, itching and impatient.

“You’ll take all day at this rate,” he grouses.

“That was the idea," Becker replies lazily, though he makes no move to stop him as Matt finishes with the belt before pulling the BDUs down past Becker’s knees.

He presses his mouth to the inside of Becker’s knee, licking a slow, deliberate trail up towards his balls. He gets halfway there, stopping to suck teasingly along wet flesh, before Becker’s hand cups back of his head and shoves him face-first onto his waiting cock.

“I want you,” Becker says slowly, rubbing himself against Matt’s cheek, “to suck me off, right now.”

Matt shifts on his knees and Becker relents enough for him to lift his head, bringing his hands up to grip Becker’s thighs and spread them, wide as they’ll go with his trousers still bunched around his knees.

“Tell me, Becker, if Abby and Connor went through an anomaly,” he wonders aloud, green eyes meeting brown. “Would you punish them, as well? Or is it just me that tickles your twisted fancy?”

Becker’s eyes widen, eyebrows shooting up in surprise, even as his mouth tightens into something of a frown. His brow twitches as though fighting different emotions and suddenly there’s anger on his face and the hand that had gone slack on the back of Matt’s head tightens its grip almost painfully.

“Enough foreplay,” Becker growls, before forcing him down and pushing his hard cock between Matt's lips.

Matt’s eyes widen at the change, the anger and the sudden heat of Becker’s cock in his mouth, and he barely has time to adjust before Becker thrusts forward, burying himself deep in Matt’s throat. Matt’s hands tighten sharply on Becker’s thighs, scrabbling for purchase as Becker withdraws, and he takes in a breath while he still has the chance. He curls one hand around the base of Becker’s cock to keep him grounded and then Becker is pushing past his lips again, hard and angry and working up a rhythm that has Matt groaning around him each time Becker slips out from between his lips, wet and throbbing.

The second round leaves Matt shaking as he tries to regain some control. Becker gives in, allowing Matt to tease him with his tongue just long enough for him to believe he’s found his feet before knocking them out from under him. Matt curses when it happens, and it happens three times before he catches on to the pattern and fights back.

When Becker slows even the slightest, his tongue curls up beneath him, running along his length from root to tip before his teeth scratch over the head just enough for a shudder to travel the length of Becker’s body.

Matt takes pleasure from Becker's sharp intake of breath and counts his victories where he can get them. He repeats the motion with a swish of tongue and is rewarded with the taste of Becker’s pre-come on his lips which he swallows without pausing. He sucks hard on the head, running his tongue over the slit, making Becker gasp and pitch forward.

Becker’s fingers jerk roughly on Matt’s hair, the short strands protesting the abuse, and then Becker is pounding into him again so forcefully that Matt’s surprised he doesn’t choke.

A stroke of his thumb over the smooth skin at the base of the soldier’s cock does him in and Becker releases with a groan that leaves Matt's body shuddering. Matt swallows reflexively and Becker withdraws, the grip of his hand in Matt’s hair slackening. They’re both breathing deeply now, and Matt fights the urge to lean against Becker until he regains his breath. He fights to remind himself that this isn't for pleasure, that Becker is doing this to prove a point, somehow, and he doesn’t have the right to let his guard down in front of him now.

He sways a little unsteadily on his knees as Becker redresses, releasing the bruising grip of his hands as the soldier moves away. Becker stops to look down at him once he’s properly dressed and for the briefest of moments, Matt is sure he sees those eyes soften, but when he blinks they’re hard again and Becker’s face is as stony as ever.

“I hope you’ve learned your lesson," he says coldly, and there’s none of that warmth in his tone, before turning away.

Matt’s hands curl into fists against his knees and he clenches his jaw to keep from calling after him. Anger courses through him as he watches Becker’s retreating back, anger for what he’s done and what he’s doing, for dragging this out and allowing Becker to pull him along, oblivious to the consequences and heedless of the dangers of allowing himself to get too close.

He waits until Becker turns the corner and is out of sight before dropping his head between his shoulders in defeat, because the feeling churning in his stomach as Becker walks away and doesn’t look back is nothing but sharp and bitter disappointment.

 

_v._

The fifth time he doesn’t even try to write off as an accident. It’s pure and shameless indulgence that sends him through the anomaly this time. He steps through and finds himself in a jungle, Jurassic by the looks of the ferns. He stoops to get a closer look and becomes engrossed in _Cycas_ and _Araucaria_ and _Bennettitales_. He loses track of time, startles from his ogling by rustling foliage and a carnivorous roar that sends him fleeing back through the anomaly like the devil’s on his heels.

“Lock it!” he yells, stumbling. “Quickly! You don’t want that coming through!”

Connor watches him with wide eyes, mouth hanging open in surprise, but he scrambles to obey, locking the anomaly just in time. Becker and Abby arrive just as the anomaly pulses and shrinks, and Connor gives him a shrewd suspicious look that makes his nerves jingle.

“You went through again,” he says disapprovingly and Matt feels Becker’s flare of anger at his back. He doesn’t need to look to see the look on Becker’s face; he’s already got the details memorised: the rigid shoulders, the grim and angry set of his mouth, those brown eyes full of ire.

He can’t help but wince when Becker throws down the EMD (it hits the ground with a clatter) before storming off. Connor gives him a sympathetic look and cringes.

“Sorry, mate, I didn’t mean to-”

“It’s okay,” he reassures him with words he doesn’t feel. “He’ll get over it.”

He feels a pulse of anticipation in his stomach at the thought.

They clean up and split into groups to secure the area, and by some stroke of luck, Matt ends up with Becker. They don’t talk; Becker seethes in silence and Matt stays quiet, letting him rage in peace. They signal to each other, the extent of their communication and even that is stiff and professional, and after searching for twenty minutes and finding nothing, they end up back at the anomaly site. The crackle of the radio and voices in his ear is the only thing that breaks the silence.

“Area secure," Becker says in response. “We haven’t found anything. We’ll take the locking device and meet you back at the ARC in twenty.”

The crackle of the receiver fades out, Connor and Abby both echoing consent, and Matt turns to stare out at the sky, hands in his pockets, suddenly thinking of home.

Something nudges the spot between his shoulder blades and Matt tries not to flinch when he recognises the barrel of the EMD. He shuts his eyes for a moment, drawing in a breath through his nose to steady his nerves. His heart thunders to life in his chest as he fights to keep his breathing even.

“Are you really gonna shoot me, Becker?” he asks, feigning casual. His voice is steadier than he feels.

Becker nudges the EMD harder into his back, and a trickle of sweat makes its way down his spine.

“I guess it’s only fair,” he continues. “After all, I did shoot you. You could-”

“Idiot,” Becker breathes, suddenly behind him, lips on his neck. The gun is pressed painfully between them and as far as he knows, the EMD could still go off. Matt feels an odd spike of arousal at the thought.

After a moment, the gun is gone, and Matt feels strangely disappointed until Becker takes it place, moulding himself to his back. Matt can feel every inch of Becker against his skin, but his attention is on Becker’s lips still pressed to the nape of his neck.

“I’m not going to shoot you.”

Matt grins. “Pity.”

The word slips out before he can stop it, and one of Becker’s hands grips his shoulder and squeezes hard. Becker’s mouth brushes up his neck, ghosts over his hair before running, tauntingly (Matt is certain he’s doing this on purpose) over his ear.

“I should,” he hisses, and Matt shudders when Becker’s teeth graze the shell of his ear. The hand tightens almost painfully on his shoulder. “You disobeyed me."

Matt forces himself to keep still, forces himself to remain outwardly calm as Becker’s hot breath rushes over his skin and Becker bites down none-too-gently on his earlobe and for once Matt is thankful for his upbringing, for mastering the art of remaining calm before he’d even learned to talk.

His mouth is dry and his voice comes out a hoarse whisper. “Well, I guess you’ll have to punish me.”

Becker’s mouth withdraws and the hand on Matt’s shoulder tightens. Becker’s voice is a low growl, with an undercurrent of something rough, unidentifiable.

“That’s what you want, isn’t it?” The hand leaves his shoulder, trailing downward. Nimble fingers trace his spine, down over the swell of his arse and it takes every ounce of Matt’s practised reserve to keep absolutely still as Becker’s hand brushes against the back of his thigh, trailing inwards.

He’s so focused on the one hand, his breathing caught painfully in his throat, afraid to move, afraid to breathe in case it startles Becker away from him and makes this stop, that when Becker’s other hand brushes unexpectedly against his front he can’t keep his body from reacting, can’t keep himself from jumping nor contain the vaguely obscene noise on the tip of his tongue as he responds involuntarily to Becker’s hand.

Becker grins against his ear, the simple grin of a victor, of a cat who’s caught his mouse.

“I thought so.” Becker doesn’t sound surprised and Matt wonders when he let on.

“Don’t fool yourself, Matthew,” Becker breathes and Matt really, really shouldn’t find the use of his first name so god damn arousing, but god the way Becker says his name nearly has his toes curling.

“I worked it out early on. The...third time you went through the anomaly?”

Matt feels a spike of fear, followed by a tumult of confusion and pleasure, at the thought that Becker had known all along.

“So why’d you keep going, then?" He’s a bit breathless and a bit smug, but he can’t help the first and he figures he’s earned the right to the second one by now.

Becker doesn’t answer, just shoves him suddenly, pushes him forward until Matt’s forced to bring up hands to protect his face as Becker pins him between his body and the alley wall. His breath leaves him in a rush as Becker presses up against him.

“Just like that, Beck,” he groans, unapologetically shameless and wanting.

Becker ignores him, focused again, his hands reaching around to unhook Matt’s belt and Matt laughs, pressing his forehead against the cool brick wall.

“You’re very predictable, you know that, Becker?” the words are a murmur of appreciation and he reaches down to help Becker’s hands along, already growing impatient. Becker, it seems, is just as impatient and gives up after a moment, forcing his hand down into Matt’s trousers. Matt has no argument and he lets out a moan when Becker’s fingers brush his cock. He’s already hard and grinds himself desperately into Becker’s hand, eager and wanting.

He bites back a groan when the hand withdraws, but the sound morphs into a chuckle when he hears the zip of another fly and then the breath is forced from his lungs again as Becker shoves him back into the wall. Matt grunts appreciatively at the press of Becker’s cock against his the small of his back.

“I never really pictured our first time going like this,” Matt murmurs aloud, hissing in a breath as Becker moves against him. “But, you know, there’s a hotel down the road not far from here-”

Becker’s lips are on his ear again, his breathing harsh.

“You should have thought of that before disobeying me.”

Arousal unfurls in Matt’s stomach and spreads through him in waves. He thinks, he’s not joking, and he turns his head to glance at Becker from the corner of his eye in surprise.

“Here-?” he asks in disbelief, but Becker just smirks and says “We’re wasting time,” as he spreads Matt’s thighs and spits into his hand.

Matt jolts forward, pressing his forehead to the wall and gasping as one of Becker’s slick fingers forces itself inside him. He lets out a groan as a second follows and then his breath hitches sharply as Becker flexes his fingers, stretching him.

“Fuck," he moans, wriggling against the invading digits. He’s rock hard and his balls ache with the strain as Becker continues teasing his hole. “You keep this up," he breathes raggedly, savouring the odd sensation of Becker’s fingers in his arse. “And I won’t be able to hold off much longer."

Becker responds by scissoring his fingers; making Matt gasp as he pushes deep enough to brush against the spot that turns his vision black and leaves his entire body quivering with pleasure.

“God, Becker,” he groans, pitching forward. He’s lost all sense of time and space, no longer caring that they’re out in broad daylight where anyone can see them if they’re looking properly, no longer caring that he’s making embarrassing keening noises like a teenage virgin or that anyone within a mile radius could probably hear them; he doesn’t care about any of that so long as Becker continues touching him just like that.

“Don’t stop,” he breathes before realising those are the entirely wrong words to say. Moments too late he remembers he isn’t supposed to be enjoying this.

“What was that?" Becker murmurs, pressing up against him as his fingers still. Matt bites back an undignified whine of protest and tries to gather his thoughts long enough to form a coherent sentence.

Just as he regains some semblance of thought, Becker’s fingers twist in him and stars erupt behind his eyes as he cries out, thankful that the wall is there to support him because his legs suddenly aren’t up to the task.

Becker’s breath is hot on his ear and his voice sounds ten shades of smug. “Because it sounds to me like you’re actually enjoying this. That won’t-"

“Stop,” Matt pleads, hoping the opposite words will have the right effect. “I said stop."

Becker tsks in his ear and the sound sends a vaguely torturous shiver down Matt’s spine.

“That’s what I thought,” Becker answers, withdrawing his fingers. A moment later Becker’s cock takes their place and Matt's breath leaves him with a cry of surprise as Becker thrusts into him. Matt squeezes his eyes shut and moans against the burn. The friction is slightly uncomfortable with so little preparation but not enough to truly hurt. Matt wonders briefly if Becker would even hear him if it had, he’s so caught up in this power-play and the punishment, but by the time Becker’s hands find his hips, the last thing Matt is thinking of is the pain.

“Beck-,” he’s cut off with a gasp as the soldier bucks against him, grinding hips against hips, the rhythm a rough and tumble tango that hits his sweet spot with every thrust until his eyes roll back in pleasure. An ecstatic moan slips from between his lips. “My God, Becker-"

Becker chuckles against his neck and one of the soldier's hands curls around his cock. A few teasing strokes of his thumb and those nimble fingers in contrast to the pace of Becker’s body on his pushes Matt over the edge. He comes hard, spraying the wall, and he tightens around Becker who comes in with a groan that leaves both men breathing hard.

There is one moment of respite just after the climax where Becker allows his guard to fall and slumps momentarily against him (Becker sighs into his hair) before he catches himself and shoves away. Matt trembles slightly as Becker withdraws and is once more thankful for the wall in front of him because his body is too spent to hold him properly.

Becker touches his shoulder briefly, a momentary kindness, but Matt screws his eyes shut and focuses on breathing.

“Get cleaned up,” Becker orders, already walking away, and his nonchalant tone reminds Matt that this was a punishment, not a pleasure. “They’re expecting us back.”

 

_I._

Three days after Becker fucked him in a back alley in broad daylight, things seem to settle down. Becker doesn’t bring it up and Matt pretends to ignore the way the air hangs heavily between them when they’re standing close. He makes a point to stay as far away from Becker as he can without being obvious about it and hopes that no one takes notice. If anyone has, they don’t call him out on it.

Becker is over by the comms, listening with half an ear as Jess recounts this week’s movie night with Abby and Connor, and he doesn’t even seem to notice Matt has he walks by.

Matt feels a prickle of annoyance at being glossed over but he puts it out of his mind and heads to the menagerie for a routine check up on the creatures. It’s become his place to think because the only other person who visits is Abby and her visits are like clockwork; it’s easy to avoid her if he tries.

Becker catches up with him as he steps into the holding room and Matt feels like he’s trapped in the airlock from the sudden pressure in his chest. He keeps his movements steady and turns around slowly, the look on his face one of civil curiosity.

“Becker,” he acknowledges casually with a nod. Becker’s eyes bore into him, and Matt feels faintly uncomfortable under the scrutiny. Becker takes a step forward and Matt curses the glass at his back that keeps him from moving further backwards.

Becker moves until they’re standing toe to toe and the look on his face is so intent that Matt wants to do nothing more than run away and hide. A heartbeat passes before Becker reaches out a hand and it takes everything in him not to flinch away, but Becker pauses midway with his hand in the air like he’s noticed and frowns before withdrawing.

Matt scowls at him, confused. “What?”

“You’re trembling,” he points out, and his features soften. There’s a furrow in Becker’s brow that reads like concern and Matt swallows, suddenly feeling exposed and vulnerable.

“I didn't...” Becker swallows and Matt’s eyes follow the bob of his throat. There’s a dark flicker in his eyes but his voice is gentle. “...hurt you, did I?”

Matt starts at the sudden admission as the words drop like anvils in the space between them and he recognises the flickers to be shadows of guilt. Becker looks just shy of uncomfortable, as he shifts from foot to foot, but he maintains eye contact and his concern is palpable.

After the moment of shock has passed, Matt is quick to shake his head and the relief that crosses Becker’s face is blinding and immediate. For a moment Becker is the only light thing in this dark room, but then confusion shuffles in across his brow and that light dims.

“Are you sure?”

Matt rolls his eyes. “Pretty sure, yeah. Look, Becker,” he catches the soldier’s gaze and holds it until he’s sure Becker’s listening. “It wasn’t the best experience I’ve ever had, no, but would I do it again?” He shrugs, slipping his hands into his pockets and looking away. “Yeah.”

“So you...”

“-Enjoy your company?” he supplied. “Yeah. What do you think? I was just running through those anomalies for the fun of it?"

“You were testing me.”

Matt grins. “Something like that. After the first time...” he shifts and clears his throat. “I wanted to see how far you’d go."

Becker cocks an eyebrow at him, but his eyes are still dark with guilt. “And now I’ve scared you off."

Matt snorts and Becker jumps, just the slightest. “Hardly."

He moves forward before Becker can blink and catches the soldier’s mouth in a fleeting kiss. He’s grinning as he pulls away. “So stop looking so damn guilty.”

“You’ve been avoiding me.” It’s halfway between a question and a statement, but the furrow in Becker’s brow gives away his uncertainty.

Matt simply pauses and stares back. After a moment of consideration, he lets his walls drop. “So have you.”

His lips twitch into a smile at the surprise on Becker’s face. Becker flounders for a moment, at a loss for words and Matt’s smile grows in amusement. It’s not everyday he strikes the captain speechless.

Eventually, Becker sighs. “So, what now?"

Matt grins and moves forward again, and Becker doesn’t protest when Matt’s hands twist in his collar.

“How about we start over?”

And finally Becker smiles, pulling him into a kiss. There’s no anger, no ulterior motive; it’s slow and sweet and promises something more.

“I could work with that.”


End file.
